


agravaine’s a scoundrel, morgana's thrown a fit, and oh look a wedding

by daisy_chains



Series: no strings [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18167852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisy_chains/pseuds/daisy_chains
Summary: The threat Morgana poses to Arthur and Gwen's union is (for the most part) gone. Now it's just a matter of finally getting 'round to the wedding (take two).





	1. agravaine’s a scoundrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aggravating uncle finally gets the boot. Is that a collective sigh of relief I hear?

“Lord Agravaine.” The man in question stiffens before he turns away from his view of the city and toward his nephew, a solemn expression carefully painted across his face.

“Arthur,” he greets. “Is something the matter?”

The king doesn’t answer immediately, instead he takes a few steps to stand beside Agravaine and stare out from the open window. 

“I’m not sure.” Arthur lets the silence return, paying no mind to his uncle’s failed attempts to pick up conversation until the man gives up and falls silent. Another moment passes before he speaks again. “How did you know about Lancelot and Guinevere’s meeting in the throne room?” 

“Well, a servant told me of Lancelot’s whereabouts,” the lord explains, taking on a tone as though such an explanation should be obvious and the king grits his teeth against the scowl that threatens to surface. 

“And Guinevere’s?”

“I saw her for myself when I followed Lancelot to the throne room,” Agravaine begins, a deep breath signalling the start of a long-winded and useless speech. Arthur scoffs, unable to help it as he pins his uncle with a disbelieving glare. 

“Do you truly think me so stupid, Uncle?” He asks. “Why would you not break them apart then come get me? You know I would have believed you, so why did you come find me first?”

The lord stumbles over half-thought phrases, alarm lighting his features like a deer faced with a forest set aflame. 

“Nevermind.” The king turns away, face twisted into a scowl. “I don’t want to hear how little you think of me.”

⁋

Arthur stands at his window, staring at the courtyard below. Behind him, Merlin polishes his armor and hums an offbeat tune that sounds remarkably similar to a tavern song Gwaine had shared on a patrol long ago. 

Without looking at the servant, he asks, “what do you think of Agravaine?” 

“What?” Merlin asks, but Arthur knows him well enough to know he’s stalling for time, so he waits. Eventually, the servant sighs and he can hear his armor being set on the floor. “Why do you want to know?”

“Something isn’t adding up, Merlin. I feel like I’m missing something important.” The room falls into silence and Arthur doesn’t mention the fact that his friend has yet to answer the question. After all, his lack of response is an answer in and of itself. 

⁋

Standing outside his uncle’s chambers, fist raised to knock, he hesitates.

 _Is this the right decision_? He asks himself, not for the first time. But then he thinks back to Merlin’s suspicions, to Leon’s distrust hidden behind polite inquiries, to Gaius’ staredowns. To so many little things all piling on, too much to dismiss.

He knocks.

⁋

“What did you tell him?” The whispered question goes unanswered as the king stands on the steps to the courtyard to see Agravaine off. 

When he can no longer see the departing group, Arthur turns and retreats to Gaius’ chambers, ignoring Merlin’s raised eyebrow..

“Less likely to be interrupted,” is the only explanation he provides, but his shoulders sag as he breathes in the familiar scent of herbs and medicines. Merlin gives him a moment to steady himself before speaking.

“Well?”

“I told him it would be best for him to return to his lands for the time being,” Arthur begins. “I sent a few knights along who will be reporting his activities back to me as well as a couple of servants.”

“So, send him away until you know what to do with him?” 

“This _is_ what I’m doing with him, _Mer_ lin.” Flipping pointlessly through one of the books sprawled out across the table, he bristles slightly at Merlin’s sigh.

“You know this isn’t a permanent solution, Arthur.”

“He’s family.” A hand comes to rest on his shoulder as Merlin takes a couple steps to stand beside him.

“I know,” he says. “But we’re your family, too. Gwen, Gaius and I, the knights. You’re not alone, we’ll be here no matter what you decide.”

“Thank you, Merlin.”

⁋

As Arthur leaves Gaius’ chambers, leaving Merlin with the usual long list of chores, Merlin turns to the stairs leading to his room. 

“It’s safe to come down,” he calls, a grin crawling across his face as the door opens to reveal Lancelot’s sheepish face. “You know, when Gaius said to rest, I think he meant in your own bed.”

Merlin doesn’t mind, though, and Lance knows as much. His words are met with a laugh as the knight walks down the steps. 

“He probably did,” Lance agrees. Hearing Merlin’s unasked question, he continues, “I couldn't sleep, so I came to find you.” 

“I have a few things to do, if you want to tag along. I’ll try not to exploit your willingness to help too much.” 

“It is not as if I have much else to do.”

⁋

Lancelot most certainly does not tell Merlin to take a break and he most certainly does not muck out the stables for his friend, either. And even if he did, well, that’s not something anyone will be telling the king. 

Though maybe the soon-to-be queen laughs at Lancelot’s muddied clothes when they pass her in the halls.

⁋

“Thanks for the help,” Merlin says, slouching beside a now-clean Lancelot on the bench in Gaius’ chambers. 

“My pleasure.” 

Lance’s scowl as he finds a spot of what probably isn’t mud that he failed to get off his boots indicates otherwise, but Merlin doesn’t mention it. Instead, he mutters a spell under his breath and smiles as the spot disappears. 

“I use that all the time. These boots wouldn’t’ve lasted this long without it.” 

“Thank you, Merlin.” 

“Of course. I mean, you spared me from the stables, it’s the least I could do.” 

“That is not what I meant,” Lancelot says, “and you know that.”

“I know.” Merlin sighs, fiddling with his bracelet to avoid Lance’s eyes as his stare bores into the side of his head. When it becomes clear he will say nothing more, Lance speaks up.

“Merlin, look at me.” Merlin does, slowly, reluctantly. His hands continue tugging at the bracelet, growing more frantic. “None of this is your fault.” 

Shaking his head, Merlin turns back to his bracelet. “Yes, it is.”

Though Lance wants to argue, wants to do everything in his power to convince Merlin otherwise, he lets it drop for the moment. Merlin can’t help but be relieved that he’s allowed to wallow in his guilt just a bit longer in the company of someone who understands _why_ he feels this way. Even if Lancelot picks the topic back up later, he still has now. 

When Lance wraps an arm around the warlock’s shoulders, Merlin sighs again, buries his face in the crook of the knight’s neck. They don’t speak. The shared quiet is a comfort they both cling to for the time they are able. 

⁋

Then Leon and Elyan barge in, dragging a spluttering Arthur behind them. 

“You talk some sense into him,” Elyan half-growls before turning and retreating from the room. 

“What -”

“He’s trying to talk himself out of marrying Gwen,” Leon explains, watching the king with narrowed eyes and something not quite a scowl on his lips. “He claims if he marries her, then she’ll be more of a target to Morgana.” 

“Well, that’s just stupid.” 

“I am _not_ -”

“Yes, well, Elyan and I have had our fill of explaining why that is, so I leave him in your capable hands.” With that, Leon, too, exits the room as though he could not escape soon enough. 

Merlin and Lancelot turn to Arthur, who stands staring at the door, befuddlement etched across his face. 

“And you call me the idiot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's finally getting around to writing this part of this au :D


	2. morgana's thrown a fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana isn't happy and Arthur is an idiot who frustrates everyone despite not having a scene this chapter.

Morgana is at Agravaine's estate when he arrives. He dismisses those he arrived with as soon as he can manage it and slinks away to the room he had set aside for any meetings that needed more discretion than usual. 

A fireball shoots past his head and hits the wall beside the door as he enters, though Morgana’s fierce glare is far more dangerous. 

“What,” she begins, stalking toward him, “happened?”

“It seems that Gaius found a way to break your hold over Sir Lancelot’s shade,” he explains, but as he goes to continue, the witch shrieks and shoots another fireball at the wall. 

“That isn’t possible! There is no one powerful enough to do that, not even the great Emrys himself.” Morgana turns away from him, pacing along the edge of the room like a caged animal. “There must be another way to prevent Gwen’s rise to the throne. I will _make_ a way. She cannot be allowed to become queen.” 

“I understand your desire to stop Arthur and Guinevere’s marriage, but, my lady, would it not be best to lie low for a while, and allow those in Camelot to believe they are safe?” 

Morgana’s glare returns to him, a snarl on her lips, though before she can speak, the doors bang open and -

“ _Emrys_.” 

There, in the doorway, stands a bearded old man in a red robe, watching the two gathered impassively. Even without Morgana’s exclamation, Agravaine would recognize the man from the many times she spoke of him, about dreams of him or merely days when she is at her most volatile. 

“Hello, Morgana,” the old man says, nodding at her as she stands at the opposite side of the room. He flicks a glance in Agravaine’s direction, but otherwise does not acknowledge the lord’s presence. “I thought I might make a visit to you and your snake. Settling in well, I imagine?” 

“You,” Morgana begins, fury coming off her in waves. Her fury renders her speechless, unable to put her hatred into words and allowing Emrys to continue without protest. 

“Me,” he agrees. “You should listen to Agravaine. Lie low, perhaps go so far as to disappear and not return. Though I know that is unlikely, considering your obsession with a crown that belongs to another.” 

“That crown is rightfully mine.” 

“No, it isn’t.” Here, the old man’s mask falls, a hint of his own fury burning through. Agravaine considers the idea of slipping out the door behind the man, who has taken a few steps into the room. “You are Uther’s bastard daughter, yes, but even if he _had_ acknowledged you, Arthur is the firstborn. You never had any claim to the throne, Morgana, and if you saw sense you’d see how pointless this quest of yours is.” 

Agravaine takes a step toward the door, only for it to slam shut, sending both traitors jumping back. 

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you, Lord Agravaine.” 

Morgana shifts her glare from Emrys to Agravaine for a moment, a wordless promise of retribution for his attempt to desert her. 

“Well, I best be off. Things to do, after all, and it takes a bit longer with aching joints.” Emrys turns away, foolishly, makes for the door. 

The spell that rushes toward him the instant he turns away is obviously expected, by the old man as well. He lifts a hand and a shield shimmers into existence. Morgana’s spell dissolves against it, leaving the witch staring dumbstruck, fear leaking through her expression. 

“Oh, and Morgana? You might want to learn how to ward against scrying.” 

With that, he leaves, Agravaine and Morgana staring after him uselessly.

⁋

When Merlin enters Gaius’ chambers, the sun has long since gone down and most of Camelot is snug in their beds. Unfortunately, Gaius is still awake, as is the Eyebrow. 

“You were out late,” Gaius says, flipping a page of the book that rests on the table in front of him. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin drops his satchel on the bench and wanders over to where dinners’ leftovers sit near the fire. “Was visiting someone and I underestimated the distance between here and them.” 

“Visiting someone?” The book is pushed aside slightly, just out of the way as Merlin settles down across the table from Gaius with a bowl of now-cold stew in hand. “Who?” 

Gaius knows, of course. If the familiar red sleeve poking out of his satchel didn’t give him away, then the hazy exhaustion weighing Merlin down certainly did. That doesn’t stop them from continuing the act. 

“No one important.” 

Though he frowns disapprovingly, Gaius does not comment. 

Eventually, Merlin’s bowl is empty and he’s all but falling asleep where he sits. 

“Well then, I suppose I’ll put off asking you to gather herbs for later,” Gaius says, rising from his seat to usher him off to bed. “You’ll be needing as much rest as you can get.” 

⁋

Morning comes with Gwen bursting into Gaius’ chambers with Elyan and Gwaine in tow. The future queen has no problem with continuing on her warpath to Merlin’s room. 

“Watch out, Merlin,” Gwaine calls from the bottom of the stairs, only serving to further bewilder the servant startled awake. “Princess was a clotpole this morning -”

“My word,” Merlin mutters, rubbing at his eyes as Gwen tosses clothing at him. 

“- so Gwen is stealing you for the day.”

“And why are you here?” 

The sheet is ripped off Merlin’s bed and the rush of cold air has Merlin wincing in sympathy for all the times he’s done that to Arthur. It doesn’t last long. 

“I’m here to babysit Elyan and make sure he doesn’t challenge Princess to a duel.” Elyan’s protests, of course, go ignored. “And Elyan’s here as emotional support.”

“And me?” Merlin dodges Gwen’s prodding, crawling out of bed. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up.” 

She nods, then retreats to the main chambers. It’s only then that he realizes Gwen’s yet to speak. 

“By the gods,” he mutters, changing into his clothes as Gwaine pops his head into the room. “What did he _do_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently "later this week" means the next day, but I'm not complaining.


	3. (merlin needs new names)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur pays for frustrating Gwen (in more ways than one).

“And _then_ the barmaid turns around and pulls a knife on the thug,” Gwaine says, continuing his non stop flow of stories as they walk through lower town. “She tells him if he comes ‘round there again, his wife and his mistress won’t be pleased with his lack of a certain body part. He turned tail and ran faster than I’d ever seen, everyone’s staring after him but she turns back to me and starts talking like that never even happened.”

Another time, maybe they would’ve told him to stop by now, would’ve tired of Gwaine’s seemingly endless supply of tavern stories. But the tension leaked out of Gwen somewhere between the second story and the fifth, and she’s laughing like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Good night, then?” Elyan asks, laughing as Gwen swats his arm. 

“Oh, there were a few good nights there. Still don’t know where she was keeping the knife.” 

Gwaine trails off as Gwen wanders over to a woodcarver’s stall, tugging Elyan and Merlin a few steps away until they’re out of earshot. 

“Now, as much as I would like Elyan to not die in a duel with Arthur, I would very much like to see someone punch him in the face. Preferably me. Repeatedly.” 

“I still don’t know what happened,” Merlin says, then shakes his head as Elyan starts to explain. “Don’t. I’d rather ask Gwen than talk about it the instant her back is turned.” 

“Thank you, Merlin.” 

The three jump, guilty expressions creeping up each of their faces. 

“We thought you were looking at stalls,” Elyan begins, glancing over where they had left her. “Sorry, Gwen.” 

“It’s fine,” she says, though her smile from earlier has returned to a frown. 

Merlin shares a look with the knights, then nods. 

“C’mon, Gwen. I heard Nigel has a new fabric he’s been dying to use, but apparently it’s too expensive since even the nobles are refusing to buy it.” He smirks and glances at the castle. “I’m sure Arthur’s pocket won’t be any lighter if you happened to buy an apology gift on his behalf.” 

The suggestion in and of itself startles a laugh out of her, but as she realizes Merlin is serious, the corners of her lips quirk upwards. 

“I think that is a lovely idea, Merlin.” 

⁋

“This,” Elyan says, about three dresses into their impromptu visit to the tailor, “was a terrible idea.” 

“I don’t know,” Gwaine responds, running a hand over a blue colored velvet. “I look forward to the Princess’ face when he sees the bill.” 

“And he won’t be able to send us to clean the entire army’s boots. I doubt he’d risk Gwen’s wrath like that.” 

Nigel hides his amusement behind a cough, blushing as the knights laugh at his expense. 

“Don’t mind them,” Gwen tells him, “they find it hilarious whenever someone laughs at the king.” 

“Even if it’s at us as well.” Merlin raises an eyebrow at Gwaine, though his grin ruins the affect and the knight laughs all the more. “But she’s right, they’re about as harmless as a two-legged cat.”

“Hey!” 

⁋

As the day comes to an end, the group makes their way back toward the castle. Gwaine and Elyan hesitate as they near Gwen’s home, but Merlin waves them on. Though they linger even as Merlin follows Gwen into her home, he knows they will, at the very least, stay far enough away to give the two privacy. 

Inside, Gwen bustles from table to hearth to counter, a whirlwind of anxious energy. Somewhere along the line, a fire is made in the hearth and candles have been lit on the table. Still, Gwen stares at the flame in the center of the table, clutching her hands in front of her. 

“Gwen,” Merlin says, taking a step toward her, “I can go if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

“No! No, that’s not it.” She drops down onto the bench, eyes still trained on the candle flame. “I just don’t know if Arthur truly believes marrying me makes me more of a target or if he’s using it as an excuse.”

There’s more, that much is clear as day. Merlin knows better than to ask, so he pretends not to notice. Instead, he says, “he’s still stuck on that? I hoped he’d get it through his head that that was nonsense after several knights tried to talk some sense into him.” 

“What?” 

“Well, there were Leon and Elyan, but they gave up and dropped him off with Lancelot and I,” Merlin explains. “I’m fairly sure Percival, Gwaine, Bedivere, and Cai ambushed him when he left.”

“So either he’s _that_ dense or he’s stubborn, is what you’re saying?” 

“Pretty much.” It doesn’t help the situation, really, but it draws a soft laugh from her. “I could always track down that goblin and blackmail him into giving Arthur the donkey ears again.”

“Oh, could you imagine the council’s faces?” Gwen’s laughter grows louder, a giddy grin replacing her frown temporarily. “They were terrified they’d lose their beards!”

“I could make that happen, too.” 

“ _Merlin_ ,” she scolds. Or rather, attempts to. She’s still grinning at the idea. Soon enough, though, the grin falls as her mind turns back to the source of her frustration. When she speaks again, she’s hesitant in a way Merlin hasn’t seen since she first admitted to having feelings for the then-prince. “I love him, and I know he loves me. I don’t understand why he chooses now to draw away again.” 

He shifts down the bench and pulls her into a hug. 

“He’s an idiot when he’s scared,” he says. “Him being scared doesn’t change that he’s in the wrong, but….”

“But it helps to know why.” Gwen leans into Merlin’s side, releasing a long sigh. “Thank you.” 

They sit like that for a while, until the sun has fully set and Merlin pulls away.

“I know there’s a long line of people who would be willing to challenge Arthur if you would let them, so I won’t offer, but I could serve him rat stew for the foreseeable future.” 

“I wouldn’t complain if that happened for whatever reason,” Gwen responds, ducking her head to hide her growing smile. “Though obviously it would have nothing to do with me.” 

“Obviously not.” 

There’s a moment of silence, broken when Merlin can no longer maintain his straight face. As he bursts into laughter, Gwen loses her own battle and joins in, the two laughing until their lungs burn. 

When they once again find themselves in silence, Merlin stands and stretches with a groan. 

“Well,” he says, “I should probably go. The turniphead’ll throw a fit if I’m late tomorrow.”

“Turniphead? Haven’t heard that one before.” Gwen rises and they hug briefly.

“Yeah, well, figured I probably need to come up with some new ones.” Merlin hesitates, then continues. “I know this is something you want to handle between yourselves, but if you need me to do something, hit him over the head or ditch a day again, I will.” 

“I know, Merlin, and thank you. Now go home, if Arthur isn’t after you, Gaius will be.” 

Merlin grimaces, thoughts trailing back to the previous night’s conversation with the physician, and nods. “You’re right. Goodnight, Gwen.”

“Goodnight, Merlin.” 

⁋

When Gwen passes Merlin on his way to Arthur’s rooms with food the next morning, she is met with a mischievous grin and a wink. 

Later, the halls are filled with tales of a certain servant fleeing the king’s rooms as the king yells after him, ranting about rats and stew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be a wedding at some point


	4. (a couple of overdue talks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, the men in Gwen's life might be idiots sometimes, but she loves them all the same. Especially when they manage to use their words to communicate like the functioning adults she knows they aren't.

The next evening finds Gwen running into Lancelot, quite literally, as she begins her walk home for the day. 

“Lancelot! I’m so sorry,” she says, brushing off her skirt more out of habit than necessity. 

“It’s fine, my lady.” Lancelot hesitates, glancing at the ground then back to her. “Can we… can we speak? I have been meaning to speak with you since my return.” 

“Of course.” Gwen holds out an arm in invitation, smiling softly. “Walk me home?” 

“It would be my pleasure.”

⁋

It’s only as they near Gwen’s house, when she almost comes out and asks, that Lancelot says what’s on his mind. 

“I know we put this behind us ages ago, but with all that has happened, I wish to assure you I have no lingering feelings for you, my lady.”

“I know, Lancelot.”

“In fact, I have found someone equally as lovely as yourself, and I -”

“Lancelot. I _know_.”

“Oh.”

“You’re happy?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Please, Lancelot, am I not your friend? It’s Gwen.” She waits until he nods in agreement, then continues. “And good, I’m glad. You’re good for each other.”

“We are. Thank you, Gwen.”

⁋

Come morning, it becomes clear that Lancelot is not the only one she will be having a, perhaps overdue, talk with. Merlin flags her down in the hall, passing on a request from Arthur to join the king for lunch.

“Is he going to apologize for being an idiot?” She asks, attempting to keep her face straight as Merlin snorts. It doesn’t work. 

“I don’t know if he’ll use those words exactly but… that’s the gist of it, from what I’ve gathered. Do you want to join him or should I tell him to shove off for a bit longer?” 

“No, I’ll join him. We should’ve had this talk a while ago.” 

“Maybe,” Merlin agrees, “but you couldn’t really do that while he was still being an idiot.” 

Gwen hums in acknowledgement, nodding. It doesn’t really matter, in the end. They’ll talk now, and now is all they’ve got to work with. 

“Just don’t serve rat stew while I’m dining with him,” she says, and this time she doesn’t bother to hide her grin. Merlin’s laughter follows her as she leaves him leaning against a wall, wheezing for breath in the hall. 

⁋

At noon, Gwen stands outside Arthur’s chambers, fist raised to knock. 

“Come on, Gwen,” she mutters to herself. “It’s only Arthur, there’s no reason to be nervous.” 

Yet, no matter how many times she tells herself this, she can’t quite convince herself. Because perhaps Arthur will apologize, will admit he’s in the wrong, but what else will he say? What if his apology is not for what he has done, but for what he _will_ do? 

“Don’t be silly. After everything, I doubt he’ll be sending you away now.” 

She knocks. 

There’s a pause, and she can hear shuffling behind the door, followed by a crash and muffled whispers. 

Eventually, the whispers end and Arthur’s voice rings out. 

“Come in.” 

She doesn’t remember the door being this heavy, this difficult to push open, but she shoves the thought away as Arthur and Merlin come into sight. 

The two stand in front of the desk, scowling at each other. 

“You want to keep arguing about this, fine,” Merlin says, then abruptly turns to her. “Do you want me here?” 

Arthur turns his glare to the ground, refusing to look in Gwen’s direction. She waits for a moment, watching the tension that lines his shoulders. 

“No. You can leave, Merlin.” 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Merlin mutters, then stalks toward the door. He pauses beside her and says, low enough so Arthur can’t hear, “I’m fairly certain Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine are hiding around the corner, so you might want to warn them whether or not they should have a chat with the prat later.” 

She huffs a laugh, then shoves him the rest of the way through the door. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Merlin.”

As the door shuts behind him, Gwen turns back to Arthur, no longer staring at the floor. She meets his gaze, only for him to glance away. After a moment of him staring vaguely at the wall above her head, she sighs and takes a few steps forward. 

“You called me here to talk,” she says. “So either we talk, or I leave Arthur.” 

Another moment passes, and she turns back to the door.

“I’m tired of being pushed away, Arthur. We were getting _married_. There isn’t anything stopping us anymore, but you still keep putting distance between us.”

Her hand has barely brushed against the door before Arthur calls out again, taking a few steps toward her. 

“Wait, Guinevere. Please.” He takes another step forward when her hand drops back to her side. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She demands, whirling around. “For what, Arthur? Because if it’s an empty apology, if you’re only saying it because it’s expected of you… then I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I'm sorry for… for pushing you away, for being afraid to hold onto you while Morgana views you as a threat despite knowing my actions won’t make any difference to her at this point.” At his side, his fists clench and unclench, and Arthur hesitates before closing the distance between them. Taking Gwen’s hands into his own, he continues. “And most of all, for hurting you. That was unforgivable of me, and I am so, so sorry.”

Tugging a hand out of Arthur’s, Gwen raises one hand to rest against his cheek. “But are you going to do this again? Because you can’t keep pulling away like this. Every time you’re scared, you pull away from everyone else, and if I am to be your wife, you can’t do that. Not with me.” 

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, and I’m sorry. I can’t promise I’ll never do it again, but…”

“As long as you promise to do your best. You’ll get better as you go on.”

“That, I can promise.” 

⁋

“So,” Arthur says sometime later. “I suppose we should decide on a date for the wedding.”

Gwen takes one look at him and sighs.

“I don't trust that face.”

⁋

“The wedding’s _when_?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might have to come back and edit because as of now (5/22/2019), this hasn't been beta read yet. However, the next (and final) chapter is finished and just needs to be edited before posting. Almost at the wedding scene, finally! I'm excited.
> 
> Update (5/25/2019): Has been beta read & edited.


	5. and oh look (finally) a wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding: Take Two. 
> 
> Everyone's praying it won't be a disaster this time, but there's also a running bet on whether Arthur will be assassinated before the wedding has the chance to happen.

“I’ve never seen the halls so busy.”

Merlin startles, fumbling with the bundles of flowers he’s delivering for another servant. 

“Gwaine, if I’d dropped these, it’s not just my head Elaine would be after.”

“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine responds, walking alongside him and dodging servants running to their tasks, quick as crossbow bolts and just as unswerving in their paths. “But still, not even the Princess’ coronation had everyone in a huff like this.”

“Yes, well, we had more than two day’s warning to prepare for the coronation.” Merlin scoffs as he ducks under a banner three servants struggle with. “And even then, two days is all Gwen could convince Arthur to give us. The prat wanted the wedding the day after he and Gwen made up!”

He and Gwaine continue walking, too focused on not being in others’ ways to make much conversation. When they escape the main area of traffic, Merlin stops and whirls around to stand in Gwaine’s path, sending the knight stumbling to a halt. 

“Have you seen Lancelot today?”

“Not today, no.” Gwaine frowns, concern leaking through his voice as he continues. “Why? Is something wrong?” 

“He’s just got a headache. All the…” Merlin trails off, gesturing to the hall around them. “It got to him, I think.” 

“So where is he, hiding in his room?” Gwaine waits, then laughs as he notices the tips of Merlin’s ears burn red. “Your room, then.” 

“Would you go check on him?” 

“My turn to reassure everyone he’s alive and not an illusion or something?” He huffs a laugh, though it lacks his usual humor. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Gwaine turns and retreats, leaving Merlin to turn back to the task at hand. 

“Elaine’s gonna murder me for being late with these,” he mutters.

⁋

Sometime after delivering the prat his lunch and being accosted by worried maidservants, Merlin runs into Gwen outside what will soon be the Queen’s chambers. Well, it’s less of him running into her and more him being recruited in the search for her. 

“Your maidservants have been looking all over for you,” he says. She doesn’t respond, too busy frowning at the doors as she straightens her skirt. “They’re just as excited as you are, Gwen. Let them fuss over one of their own on her big day, yeah?”

“I hate it when you’re right.” Gwen sighs and nods. “I know, but I just… I had to get away from it all for a moment. I might not have a chance to do this after the coronation.” 

Merlin hums, noncommittal. “If you need a moment, I believe you have plenty of people at your back ready to make one.” 

“I know.” 

They stand there for a while longer. Merlin leans against the wall, taking advantage of this moment himself while Gwen continues her stare off with the door. Eventually, she turns to him. 

“Alright, I should go find them now. Thank you, Merlin.” 

“Didn’t do a thing,” Merlin responds, though he nods with a small smile. 

“And I won't tell anyone if you choose to linger a bit longer,” she says over her shoulder as she walks away. “Just make sure you don't miss tonight!”

“As if I'd ever!”

⁋

Though he doesn't linger for long after Gwen leaves, the short break helps more than he had expected. 

Truthfully, there isn't much more to be done. Not on his part, at least. It's still too early to get Arthur dressed, and he's more likely to get in the way than anything else with the last minute details. 

Still, he asks those he passes if they need assistance, which is how he ends up in the courtyard, seeking out the Steward to ask where a misplaced banner disappeared to. 

His attention is torn away from his task as he catches sight of a person lurking in the far corner of the courtyard. 

Perhaps it's not his smartest idea, to approach her in broad daylight, in an area often overlooked, but he doesn't care much for being smart today.

As he approaches, he takes in her appearance. Truthfully, if not for the fact that he already knows what lies beneath the disguise, he would likely pass her off for simply another noble wishing to witness Arthur and Gwen's union.

She stands in the shadows, hunched over and wrinkled but in clothes fit for the highest of nobles. The effects of the aging spell are clearer than a cloudless sky, and Merlin is drawn to the familiar magic immediately. 

“I hope you aren’t here to start a fight,” he says in a hushed voice as he approaches her. “There are enough knights that even you cannot fight them all off, my lady.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of,” she responds, turning away from him sharply. “I am here simply to witness the union.” 

“To fuel your hatred for them, perhaps?” 

She growls a curse beneath her breath, but still keeps her face turned away. “Tell me, Merlin, how do you manage to see me even with the most powerful of shielding spells hiding me from everyone’s sight?”

“I know spells, my lady. There have been enough times where I was required to learn all I can about them, and this? This works only for those who do not know you are here. There was no way you would have missed this.” He sighs, watches her steal a glance at him from the corner of his eye. “I’m not here to reveal your presence or to drive you away, but -”

“As if _you_ could possibly manage that.”

“- maybe you should try to hide the storm cloud brewing over your head. It’s quite telling.” 

Nothing else is said. Truthfully, there is nothing else _to_ say. They are no longer the young man and woman who once stood beneath the castle and argued for the other to see sense even as they fought. Those days are far behind them, leaving only world-weary souls in their wake. 

He leaves, certain that she will not attempt to halt the coronation once more. Today is the crowning of his best friend, after all, and he won’t allow anyone to prevent him from enjoying it. 

⁋

“Gwen may have her own crowd of excited maidservants,” Merlin says to Lancelot, still nursing a headache but no longer hiding, as the two of them watch twenty of Arthur’s best knights squabbling over who gets to check on the king and see if he’s ready. “But Arthur definitely has more overexcited pups trailing after him.”

“Hard to believe these are some of Camelot’s finest, isn’t it?” 

Merlin hums thoughtfully, eyes narrowed at the knights, then shakes his head. “Not really. Dollopheads they may be, but so is their king. A perfect match, don’t you think?”

“Is that so?” Huffing a laugh, Lance bumps his shoulder into Merlin’s. “What does that say about us, then?”

“Much as I hate to admit it, we’re both dollopheads as well, sometimes.” 

Lance shakes his head, huffing another laugh, before the two fall into a comfortable silence. 

Eventually, Lance breaks it again, asking, “is he ready?”

“Of course he is,” Merlin scoffs, though a grin tugs at his lips. “He’s been ready for nearly an hour. I’m just surprised no one realized Leon and I swapped out on king-sitting duty.” 

“Well then,” Lance says, taking Merlin’s hand into his own, “we have a few hours until the coronation. Mind if I steal you away until then?” 

“By all means, valiant knight.” 

Sparing the knights one last glance, they slip around the corner and escape down another hall. Merlin isn’t sure what they’ll end up doing, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t care much so long as he has this time to spend with Lance. 

⁋

As Merlin enters the throne room, he sends a warning glare to the corner where Morgana lurks. Of course she’s still here, and he knew better than to think otherwise. He only hopes he’s right in that she won’t cause trouble today. 

“Is something wrong?” Lance mutters in his ears, squeezing the hand in his lightly. 

“Nothing important,” he answers. “I’ll tell you about it later.” 

They separate to take their respective places in the crowd, waiting for Arthur’s arrival. Elyan, standing next to him, fidgets with the nervous energy of a mother hen, and Merlin tells him such in a laughing whisper. 

“I am _not_ being a mother hen,” Elyan hisses back, though he smiles excitedly as Arthur enters the room and moves to stand before the thrones. “My sister is getting married, I’m just anxious for it to happen without a hitch.” 

The “ _this time_ ” goes unspoken, but Merlin hums in agreement nonetheless. 

“It will,” he assures the knight, then allows a smile of his own to split his face as the main doors open. 

The crowd falls silent, watching as Gwen walks toward the thrones, toward Arthur. Her gown is fit for a queen, fit for no other than the best woman Merlin’s ever had the honor of knowing. 

Beside him, Elyan takes a shaky breath, eyes wet, and Merlin brushes against his shoulder lightly. It’s a welcome distraction from the burn behind his own eyes. 

Gwen kneels before Arthur on the dias, and while he cannot see her face, he is sure her face is a reflection of Arthur’s beaming smile. Geoffrey presents the queen’s crown to Arthur, and he takes it with a care and caution Merlin has seen only when he is handling his mother’s ring. 

It is with the same gentleness that he places it on Gwen’s head, at the same instant speaking for all in the throne room to hear. 

“By the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you… Guinevere… Queen of Camelot.” 

He helps her to her feet, and a surge of magic threatens to overwhelm Merlin, as though magic itself is rejoicing alongside those waiting to shout their support for their new queen. 

“Long live the queen!” 

The crowd echoes the chant, and Merlin lets his eyes fall shut to disguise the magic bursting forth, wrapping itself around the couple protectively. 

As the rush of magic fades, relents its control, he forces his gaze to focus back on his two friends, his two monarchs, and joins in with the chants of those around him. 

“ _Long live the queen_!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the wedding scene is much shorter than I originally planned it to be, as well as a lot less focused on the two actually getting married, but I'm not quite done with the wedding. 
> 
> This work is finished, but the series isn't. The next work will be about the wedding and the wedding alone, as well as from the perspective of Gwen or Arthur (haven't decided which yet). So hopefully no one is too disappointed with this, cos more is to come that I hope will do Arthur & Gwen justice. I'll try to get that written fairly quickly, but I can't promise when it'll be up.
> 
> One last thing. This is also the first multichapter fic that I've completed, so I'm very excited about that and also happy that I've proven (to myself) I'm capable of doing so. Not really important, but something I'm happy about and thought I'd share.


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